


The Rave-Time Ecuadorian Blues

by PurpleWyrm



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-26 02:01:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7555774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleWyrm/pseuds/PurpleWyrm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exploration of an old-world bunker goes rather badly for Sigrun's sense of calm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rave-Time Ecuadorian Blues

Sigrun was angry, frustrated, and had a pounding headache. She glared over to where Emil and Mikkel were getting nowhere pushing random buttons and sliders on the control console. Tuuri, Lalli and the skinny Icelander were being no help at all - neither for that matter was the kitten. She grit her teeth and thought back to that morning when things had still made sense...

* * *

"According to the notes this building contained some kind of bunker" announced Tuuri through a mouthful of porridge.

"A book bunker?" asked Sigrun, drying her hair with a towel after having dunked her head in the wash bucket. 

"Ummm, no..." Tuuri flipped to the next page "They thought it might have useful supplies for extending the mission."

"You hear that people?" Sigrun shouted, stepping out of the tank "Grab your kit! We're looking for a bunker full of supplies!"

The building they were parked in front of was a solid concrete block, standing incongruously in a field just off one of the ancient roadways that radiated from the ruins of Copenhagen.

Lalli and Emil were standing ready, the lanky scout staring off at the horizon while Emil cast a critical eye over the concrete.

"I think I found it" he ventured, deadpan.

"Yes, very good" responded Sigrun dryly. "You feel like going inside to confirm this astonishing conclusion?"

"Sure" he responded "What's the plan?"

"Usual rules, step carefully, don't do anything dumb and no gunfire unless you really need it. Mikkel!"

The tall Dane wandered around the back of the tank.

"Sigrun?"

"You're in charge. Keep fuzzy-head and braid-boy out of trouble until we get back."

"You're not taking the kitten?"

"Nah, no troll's been near this place in years, trust me."

"If that's what you think is best"

"I do. C'mon warriors!"

Sigrun, Emil and Lalli approached the rusted metal doors of the bunker. They were fastened with a corroded chain and padlock, which fell away after a few quick blows from the crowbar. The left door seemed the most mobile, and after a minute or so of wrenching opened enough for Sigrun to shine a lamp into the darkness within.

"Stairs" she commented "Pretty typical."

"You've explored bunkers before?" asked Emil, peering over her shoulder.

"A few. They can be real hellholes for trolls, but this one looks clean. Be careful though, there's usually a maze of tunnels before you reach the good stuff. Twig, you want a look?"

She stepped back from the gap and gestured to Lalli. He stepped forward, peered through, and in one smooth movement flowed through the gap and down the stairs.

"I guess that's forest-mage for 'yes'" Sigrun slapped Emil on the shoulder "C'mon! Adventure awaits!" She squeezed through the hole, quickly followed by Emil. 

At the bottom of the stairs was a hallway, stretching off into the darkness in both directions. Without waiting for orders Lalli slunk off to the right, vanishing into the gloom.

"Told you it would be a maze!" Sigrun nodded at Emil through the darkness. "I'll follow the twig, you take the left." She started down the corridor, shining her lamp through some vacant doorways as she passed "Remember not to do anything dumb!". She walked around the corner and vanished.

Emil surveyed the left hallway. There were no doors or cross passages, and the floor was clear. He drew his knife as he crept along, shining his lamp across every surface including the ceiling - especially the ceiling.

After a minute or so the corridor turned to the left. Emil stopped and listened carefully. Apart from a soft dripping of water and the sound of his own heartbeat, all was silence.

He stepped carefully around the corner and straight into the arms of a looming humanoid figure with a long, snake-like nose and gigantic glowing eyes.

"GAHH!!" he yelped, and began dealing out a desperate flurry of stabs and slashes. It was several seconds before he realised his opponent was some kind of dummy.

Untangling the long nose tube that had somehow got twisted around his neck, Emil stepped back and caught his breath. Aiming his lamp at the now mutilated figure showed it to be a female mannequin wearing an old fashioned gas mask and - for some reason - a set of sequinned underwear. Another identically dressed figure lay on the ground under a coating of dust. Behind them stood a large, metal, distinctly bunker-like door.

"Yes!" hissed Emil.

He played his lamp across the door and its fittings. It all seemed intact. He grabbed the handle and gave it an experimental tug, but - as he expected - it was stuck fast. Looking around for any other controls he spotted a faded poster glued to the wall opposite and stepped forward for a closer look.

The poster was - not unexpectedly - in an appalling state. The edges were curled, the paper was cracked and it looked like something had been nibbling at it. Even worse it was in Danish. Emil wiped away some of the caked dust that obscured its surface and was able to pick out a few words.

"Party... new concept... Soviet chic..." he muttered to himself. None of it made any sense, but at the bottom there was a large, once-red arrow, pointing at a cracked rubber button recessed into the wall...

"Gotcha!" he grinned and pushed it.

A series of heavy clunks sounded from the door, followed by a hiss of escaping air. As it died away Emil tried pulling on the handle again and, with some effort, the door slowly swung open revealing a pool of impenetrable darkness behind.

Emil waited some seconds. No horde of hideous, screaming trolls came boiling out of the blackness, so he stepped inside.

The interior was spacious, and the air tasted surprisingly fresh. His lamp beam pierced the darkness, revealing various vague shapes, but faded out before reaching any far wall.

He considered calling the others. This was undoubtedly the bunker they were searching for and he was the genius who'd found it. But who knew what treasures - or hazards - might lie within? A quick recon before reporting back to Sigrun would clearly be the professional way to proceed. Thus decided he took a wide step into the darkness and immediately slipped on an unseen obstacle, falling backwards and slamming into the wall shoulder first.

As he lay on the ground groaning, there was a loud 'click' as a second, previously-unseen button he'd fallen onto popped back into place.

A deep chugging sound emerged from somewhere in the darkness - Emil recognised it as that of a generator starting up. Small twinkling lights lit up in the ceiling, sparkling like stars. Stronger lights flickered to life, revealing a bar against one of the walls and what was clearly a dance floor, edged with arrangements of shapeless fabric bags.

More mannequins were scattered around the room, some in sequinned underwear and others in old fashioned military uniforms. As he got to his feet Emil noticed framed posters in bold primary colours hanging from the walls, although he was unable to read the strange alphabet they were printed in.

Entranced, he stepped forwards. Just as he was about to set foot on the dance floor a brief whining sound echoed from somewhere above, followed without warning by the loudest voice he had ever heard, screaming an unanswerable question...

_**"WHAT IS LOVE?!"** _

"BWAAH!!" screamed Emil back, throwing himself to the ground and writhing around in a terrified search for threats.

 _ **"BABY DON'T HURT ME! DON'T HURT ME! NO MORE!"**_ the voice continued. A twanging beat started up and the room filled with a kaleidoscope of flashing multicoloured lights, only adding to Emil's terror. He leapt back to his feet as the floor beneath him started to flash in time with the music.

Sigrun came charging down the hall, bursting into the bunker like an avenging and particularly angry goddess.

"WHAT THE _HELL_ EMIL?!" she bellowed "THIS IS GOING TO BRING DOWN EVERY TROLL FOR _MILES_! SHUT IT OFF!"

"I CAN'T" He wailed back "I DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW I STARTED IT!"

"WELL DO _SOMETHING_!"

Emil glanced wildly around the room and spotted what looked like some kind of control console on an elevated plinth. He ran across and after a moment's baffled examination flicked a random switch.

The appalling sound cut off. 

"Thank the gods!" snarled Sigrun in the somehow shocking silence. "We'd better get everyone back to the tank before..."

_**"DAME TU MANO!"** _

"EMIL!!"

_**"Y VENGA CONMIGO!"** _

"IT WASN'T ME!"

_**"VAMONOS AL VIAJE PARA BUSCARLOS SONIDOS MAGICOS! ECUADOR!!"** _

Mikkel came running into the room "THIS NOISE IS GOING TO ATTRACT EVERY TROLL..."

"I KNOW!" Screamed Sigrun

Emil bashed at the console, but nothing happened. He peered pathetically at Sigrun, then at Mikkel, then at Sigrun again.

 _"Ubrukelig idiot Svenske!"_ Sigrun muttered under her breath. She stamped over to the heavy bunker door and looked it up and down. "Seems sturdy enough!" she yelled "If we can't shut this racket off we'll have to lock ourselves in!" She turned to Mikkel "Get the others down here as fast as you can, and bring food and water" She glared at Emil who visibly cowered. "We could be down here a while."

Mikkel nodded and ran for the stairs. Emil continued to prod at the console to little seeming effect. Sigrun surveyed the room from the middle of the dance floor.

"Weirdest damn bunker I've ever seen..."

Mikkel returned after a few minutes loaded down with packs and water bottles. Turri and Reynir - similarly burdened and wearing their masks - followed after him. They dumped their loads just inside the door and gazed around in wonder.

Tuuri squealed.

"This is the best music I've ever _heard_!" she exclaimed in delight. She grabbed Reynir by the hand, dragged him out onto the floor and started dancing. After a second's confusion he shrugged and joined in. An orange blur leapt from his pocket and started chasing the lights across the walls.

Sigrun looked on in disgust. She turned to Mikkel "Where's the twig?"

A grey blur squeezed past them and out onto the dance floor. It threw itself to the ground and started spinning wildly, limbs flashing in all directions in time with the lights and beat.

Sigrun closed her eyes in frustration. "That's everyone. Seal the gods-damned door Mikkel and then try and shut this racket off". She strode across the room and threw herself down on one of the squishy fabric bags that lined the wall to wait.

* * *

Sigrun was angry, frustrated, had a pounding headache and desperately wanted to know what a 'vengabus' was.

Emil continued to mess with the control panel, occasionally changing the 'music' but unable to shut it down or have any affect on the volume or the migraine inducing lights. Mikkel had resorted to levering a panel off the wall and was trying to trace the mess of cables within. Tuuri, Reynir and Lalli were still dancing, the latter propelling himself around the floor on his belly like some kind of giant hallucinatory worm while the other two shouted musical requests that Emil desperately ignored. All three were wearing wide brimmed hats purloined from the mannequins - Sigrun was pretty sure none of them were rank appropriate. The kitten - still wildly chasing specks of light - showed no sign of slowing down.

Giving up on the cables, Mikkel came over, carrying a water bottle and some painkillers. Sigrun grabbed them gratefully.

"I'm sorry Sigrun, this technology is beyond our skills."

She swallowed a couple of the pills. "You mean we're stuck here?"

"Only until the fuel runs out." He gestured around the room "We have food and water, we're safe from trolls. Our situation could be much worse."

"I suppose. How much fuel do you think is left?"

"After 90 years? No more than a few hours worth at most..."

* * *

Beneath the bar sat a dusty pile of brochures, unread for almost a century. They extolled the virtues of a new kind of nightclub, one safe from the threats of an uncertain world while revelling in the style of a bygone cold-war era. Hidden on the back page, among a boastful collection of technical specifications was a claim that the specially designed fuel tanks would keep their contents fresh and combustible for at least 95 years, and would provide enough energy for three straight days of partying without a refill.

The claim proved to be entirely, exasperatingly correct.

**Author's Note:**

> Written under the influence of a bad cold and Swiss cough syrup in a hotel room in Basel (this may explain some things...)
> 
> Those readers who managed to avoid the 1990s may want to enhance their experience of this tale by looking up "What is Love?" by Hadaway, "Ecuador" by Sash and "We Like To Party" by the Vengaboys. Or maybe not... :)
> 
> (I like to think that "Brazilian" by Primary was also on the playlist and that Reynir particularly enjoyed the sheep noises in the full playthrough of the KLF's "Chill Out" album on day three.)


End file.
